


Sylvia's Story

by ThePreciousHeart



Category: The Truman Show (1998)
Genre: Acting, Behind the Scenes, Dancing, F/M, Falling In Love, Forbidden Love, Hollywood, Lies, Manipulation, Origin Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-18 13:19:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15486660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePreciousHeart/pseuds/ThePreciousHeart
Summary: As a hopeful young actress eager for work, Sylvia Redding never dreamed that a bit part on The Truman Show would lead to notoriety, and determine her life's path. Partly an origin story for Sylvia, mostly a variety of scene rewrites from her POV.





	Sylvia's Story

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic for a film that recently became one of my favorites. There will be more! If you like it, criticize it, or just want to chat about the movie, feel free to leave a comment.

      Sylvia sat with her legs crossed, her body rigid in order not to accidentally crash into the sleeping man beside her, and her ears full of the bus’s low drone. She’d spent most of her trip staring out the window, and while the transition from rural scenery to an industrial city had been thrilling, the onset of traffic slowed the bus considerably, temporarily stalling Sylvia’s excitement. She found it difficult to keep from impatiently tapping her toes and pinching herself that she was finally here in Los Angeles, ready to seek her fortune on the silver screen.

       To pass the time, Sylvia chose to review her guidelines, the rules she’d set for herself in starting her new career. She’d heard horror stories about how this town ate promising actors alive, how one could plunge from the top of the world to the bottom of the pit overnight. That wasn’t going to happen to Sylvia- not if she could help it, anyway.

       First and foremost: _No sleeping with producers or directors to guarantee a role._ Young, upcoming actresses never had it easy, but Sylvia didn’t care for the idea of debasing herself to smooth out her rocky path. If she ever landed a coveted role, it would have to be based on her talent alone, not because she’d styled herself as some lecherous filmmaker’s plaything.

       Just as important was the second rule: _Be yourself, because you have no one else to offer._ Outside of acting, Sylvia saw no reason to deceive those around her into thinking she was cleverer, prettier, more talented than she actually was. _Let’s face it-_ she was green compared to the many other hopefuls who’d flocked to LA, her biggest claims to fame being a series of local advertisements, a string of appearances in her high school's plays, and a well-received turn as Laura Wingfield in a local production of _The Glass Menagerie._ Unless she found a way to continue her education while auditioning, Sylvia was sure to lose a few roles to those who were more experienced. But that didn’t matter, as long as she was able to remain honest.

       _If you land a major role, don’t let fame go to your head. Remember where you came from._ This was the easiest rule to follow by far. The idea of celebrity had never interested Sylvia. She couldn’t deny that she’d be happy to live comfortably, but the instant recognition, fans mobbing her on the street, press junkets and gossiping in the tabloids about her every move- none of that was worth it.

       And finally: _Don’t doubt yourself. Keep moving forward._ No matter what happened, Sylvia wasn’t about to pack her bags and flee for home. Somewhere out there lay the perfect opportunity, and even if it took dozens of rejections Sylvia knew she would seize it when she found it. She’d traveled all the way across the country because she believed in herself as much as the friends who'd encouraged her to make the leap.

      “The camera loves you, Sylvia,” her acting teacher had said, when she’d brought in a tape of one of the commercials she’d done to show her. “You’re a natural for the screen. Don’t let anything stand in the way of that. If you’ve got the ability, you must use it.”

       The bus lurched to a stop, jolting the man beside Sylvia to wakefulness. With her teacher’s words still ringing in her ears, Sylvia retreated from her memories just as the bus’s doors opened and its passengers began to stretch their weary limbs.

       “Welcome to Los Angeles,” the bus driver announced over the intercom. “Enjoy your stay.”

*

       “Hi, is this Sylvia Redding?”

       “Yes.”

       “This is Maria from Blue Heron Pictures. We've reviewed your audition tape, and we're sorry to say we don't think you're right for the part. However, if your schedule is free on Wednesday night, Mr. Burgess is willing to accept a private audition.”

       Sylvia gritted her teeth. “No thanks.” She hung up the phone and stared at the wall, trying not to let the dejectedness well in her chest. After receiving numerous calls with similar messages, the pain no longer stemmed from being turned down, but from the lack of a secure future. _I’ve got to make rent next month, and I can’t afford to take on another job._

Eva, Sylvia’s roommate, was lounging in front of the TV with a cigarette when Sylvia stepped out of the kitchen. Her eyes immediately zeroed in on Sylvia’s knit brow and troubled lips. “Don’t tell me. Another rejection?”

       “Right as usual.” Sylvia went to sit in the easy chair beside the couch, grateful that Eva had angled her cigarette’s smoke away from her.

       “Oh, Sylvie.” Eva _tsked_ as she flipped through channels. “What’s it gonna take to get them to recognize your talent? You should have been hired, like, yesterday. Well, I guess if it was easy…”

       “…everyone would do it,” Sylvia finished. She stared unhappily at the TV screen, longing for its warm glow to soothe her. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m not giving up. Not yet.”

       “And that’s what we love about you,” Eva giggled. She changed the channel again and gazed contented at the screen. “You know, it you’re really struggling, there’s always… well, you know.”

       “What?”

       In response, Eva nodded towards the TV. Sylvia followed her gaze. Onscreen, a young man sat with his friend in a soda shop, the two playfully discussing their day at school. For the uninitiated, it could have easily been mistaken for a run-of-the-mill sitcom, but the mundanity of the conversation and the occasional unconventional camera angles gave it away.

       Sylvia’s heart sank, but she masked the reaction with a laugh. “If you think I’m auditioning for _The Truman Show,_ you must be out of your mind.”

       “Hey, you’re out of your mind if you _don’t_ audition,” Eva said. “Come on, Sylvie, it’s your best bet. They just sent out a casting call for extras- need ‘em to fill up space during school scenes or something. It’s football season, you know. And he’s in the band so he’s gonna attend all the games. You need a big student body for that, otherwise it doesn’t look good.”

       Sylvia tore her gaze away from the men onscreen, to Eva’s confident, sparkling eyes. “Aren’t they trying to cast his wife, too?”

       “Yeah, that call went out last week. The one for extras is new. Just think!” Eva stubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray beside her, her eyes wide with excitement. “If you audition now, you could be _Mrs._ Truman!”

       _Mrs. Truman Burbank._ It sounded ridiculous to Sylvia, and more than a bit unpleasant. Slowly her gaze drifted back to the screen, Truman's unquestionable charm absorbing her attention. She knew who Truman was, of course. Anyone who didn’t had to be living under a rock. In a way, Sylvia had grown up with him. Their birthdays were literally weeks apart, and when she was little she’d confused Truman celebrating on TV with a real surprise party held in her honor. She tended to use Truman and his day-to-day life as a reliable fallback whenever a conversation was starting falter. _Lovely weather we’re having, how’s the job going, have you caught up on Truman…_

However, as Sylvia grew older, she’d grown somewhat disillusioned with the show. The appeal had been there when she was a kid, to see someone just like her living the same kind of life and suffering the same struggles. But the show had fallen out of Sylvia’s favor in her teens, around the time she’d taken up acting. Her theater work led her to cast a more critical eye. She’d come to the conclusion that a performance wherein the lead actor was not aware of its nature was no performance. This was a life she was watching, and not a particularly realistic one either, despite how it was touted in the press. _The Truman Show_ was a production built on lies and thus wasn’t worth Sylvia’s time.

       Some took their opposition further. On her way to class one day, a fellow student had accosted Sylvia, clipboard in hand. “Would you sign my petition to free Truman from _The Truman Show?”_

Sylvia had been taken aback, but as she didn’t want to be late for class, she’d signed quickly and moved on. Not before the petitioner had pressed a pin into her hand, though. The bright red letters leapt out at her- HOW’S IT GOING TO END?

       Sylvia kept the pin because she liked the sentiment. Personally, although she disagreed with the concept of the show, she couldn’t imagine it going off the air, or imagine a show without Truman. Whether one loved the show or hated it, it had always been there, to tune in or tune out at leisure. Truman existed in Seahaven, had always existed in Seahaven- Sylvia couldn’t picture him thriving anywhere else. He was an ephemeral figure dancing across the TV screen, inhabiting a safe and limited world in which he could hardly want for anything. In short, cancelling _The Truman Show_ seemed more trouble than it was worth. How could one petition affect such an earth-shattering change? _How’s it going to end?_

       “Why didn’t you ever audition?” Sylvia asked.

       Eva shrugged, her face screwing up. “I _did_ audition, but they didn’t want me. Said I didn’t fit the show’s image or something. They’ve got a strict process about it. Background checks and everything. If they turn up anything that looks remotely suspicious, you’re not getting the gig.” She shook her head. “But _you,_ baby, you’re spotless. You could get that job in a heartbeat if you wanted.”

       “I don’t know,” Sylvia murmured, more to herself than to Eva. “I’ll think about it, I guess.”

       “Well, if I were you, I’d do more than just think about it,” Eva said. “I heard the show pays big bucks. It’s an easy way to make rent, plus it’ll give you exposure worldwide. Everyone will know your face!”

       _Everyone will know your face…_ It was far from a tempting prospect. And if Sylvia lived on set, as she’d heard that many of the actors did on _The Truman Show,_ she wouldn’t even need to worry about rent. But then again, as an extra, she probably wouldn’t need to be on set for long, just over the course of the school year. She’d be provided with free housing and nourishment, and amass a sizable chunk of money to help her along when she left the show. Plus, it would look good on her resume.

       “Did you happen to save the information from the casting call?” Sylvia asked.

       Eva laughed. “I _knew_ you’d cave.”

*

       As it turned out, being an extra on _The Truman Show_ was a great pile of nothing. Sylvia was called upon to do little more than walk through halls and across campus. Sometimes she was put in a lecture room if Truman left class to use the bathroom, just so he wouldn’t see empty seats while walking by. Otherwise, her downtime- if it could be called that- was spent in the set’s various hidden green rooms, always awaiting her next cue. It wasn’t quite as freeing as Sylvia had expected, but she was making a living, so she couldn’t complain. At night she slept in one of Seahaven’s gutted, skeletal houses, and every morning greeted a team of stylists who selected her outfit and makeup. _But for what?,_ Sylvia found herself wondering as she made her way to Seahaven College, clutching her provided textbooks to her chest. _It’s not like anyone’s supposed to notice me._

“Being noticed isn’t the point,” one of her fellow extras declared when Sylvia happened to mention her thoughts to him. He’d said to call him Bobby, but Sylvia wasn’t sure if that was his real name. “It’s an honor just to be on the show. I mean, I’ve been watching it since I was a kid. My mom used to buy all the same products that his parents used, and my friends and I quoted it all the time on the playground. I guess Truman’s pretty much my hero. This is a dream come true for me.”

        Sylvia nodded, remembering the _Truman Show-_ themed parties she’d been invited to as a kid. She’d noticed that nearly all men who grew up watching the show claimed that Truman was their hero, but their behavior rarely gave her evidence to support that.

        “Have you ever been in class with him?” Over the first week, Sylvia had become acquainted with most of the college-age extras, who shared her schedule, but Bobby flitted in and out, leading her to believe that he’d been cast to play a bigger role. Bobby nodded.

       “Yeah, it’s a real trip. Like, I can forget he’s there when we’re listening to the professor, but then she calls on him and… wow. _That’s Truman Burbank!_ Though of course I still can't talk to him. I’m surprised they shuffled me in with him considering how I’m a fan; they don’t usually let that happen.” Though Bobby spoke nonchalantly, he radiated pride, clearly figuring he deserved such a lucky break.

       “On the plus side, I caught a glimpse of his future wife. Well… _wives.”_

“Wives?” Sylvia grinned. “Wouldn’t polygamy hurt the ratings?”

       Bobby rolled his eyes. “Come on, you must have heard about it. There’s five of them total. They want Truman to choose between ‘em, you know, to keep the fans interested. Have them fighting over who should end up with him.” He laughed. “If you ask me, it’s going to be a hard time picking just one. That Meryl Babbitt, she’s a looker… but so’s Audrey Pulaski…”

       Eva’s voice sounded in Sylvia’s head: _You could be MRS. Truman!_ And at once Sylvia was very glad she hadn’t auditioned to be just that. Perhaps it was fine to spend several months on the show, but she couldn’t imagine giving up her life so wholly in the name of entertainment.

       _If Truman knew about the show, would he feel the same way?_

During her first week on set, Sylvia only saw the titular star once, in the distance on the way to his next class. Even though his back was to her and they were separated by a steady flow of extras, a shiver went up her spine. The reaction thoroughly surprised her. _Me, starstruck over Truman Burbank?_ But it wasn’t so much that, as it was the realization that she now inhabited his liminal space. While Sylvia went off to wait for cues and receive makeup touch-ups, Truman continued to go about his day in the hapless belief that this was all real.

       _But it’s not._

She couldn’t say she didn’t feel the least bit sorry for him.

*

       The day that changed Sylvia’s life was the day of the semester’s first football game. As Eva had predicted, all extras were out in full force. It was the first day on set that Sylvia felt entirely at ease. Sitting under a tree and soaking up Seahaven’s false sunlight, watching the home and rival teams head for the field and listening to the band discordantly warming up, Sylvia could have believed that she was back home in Boston, ready to cheer her alma mater on. (Except, of course, that Seahaven was a _lot_ warmer this time of year.) Even the rehearsed dialogue between herself and the people around her felt natural.

       An enthusiastic trumpet solo turned Sylvia’s attention onto the band. To her astonishment (though she knew they were in the band, so why was she taken aback?), the person playing it was none other than Truman’s best friend Marlon. Beside him stood Truman himself. _Makes sense, the two are inseparable._ Marlon had been the one to convince Truman to join the band after all. As an auxiliary percussionist, Truman didn’t have his instrument on hand, so his gaze swept the throng of gathered extras… and landed on Sylvia.

       Sylvia couldn’t help but stare back. It was the first time she’d seen Truman’s face outside of the TV screen. He seemed every bit as friendly in person as he came across on the show. _Well of course, he doesn’t know he’s playing a role._ She waited for him to look away, but remarkably, Truman remained fixated on her. A soft smile lit his face, and unthinkingly, Sylvia smiled back.

       Then Marlon interrupted the moment, apparently feeling that his solo had gone underappreciated. His distraction brought Sylvia back to her knowledge of herself. She glanced away, hoping that her face wasn’t burning. All extras were told not to engage Truman’s attention, to ignore him if possible. Not only were they not contracted for speaking roles, but Sylvia suspected most were inexperienced like her and therefore unlikely to hold a believable conversation. _Besides,_ she remembered being briefed before entering the set, _the show’s not about you, it’s about Truman._

However, when Sylvia next glanced over, she was amazed to see Truman gesturing as if he wanted her to join him. _HE must want the show to be about me…_ Her uncontrollable smile faltered. If she stayed where she was, Truman might come over to say hello, and she couldn’t allow that. But under no circumstances should she approach him, especially if she wanted to keep her job…

       Fortunately, as if from out of the heavens, a diversion came in the form of a cheerleader, who tripped as she passed Truman and fell onto him. Truman looked away, and one of Sylvia’s fellow extras nudged her.

       “Lauren.” It took Sylvia a moment to remember who _Lauren_ was. “Come on, we gotta go.”

       Without asking why, Sylvia gladly got to her feet. Part of her wanted to thank the cheerleader who’d fallen, because she’d helped her more than she knew. If Sylvia walked away now, Truman would probably forget all about her. Crisis averted.

        But as the marching band lined up to take the field, another part of her wished that she could stand by Truman’s side, and not fear the repercussions.

*

       Sylvia didn’t encounter Truman again until the next month’s homecoming game. By then she was growing used to the strange, unorthodox lifestyle of _The Truman Show._ It was going to be hard to re-adapt to the real world once her contract expired. She had also successfully managed to put the earlier incident at the football game out of her mind. Word spread that Truman had started spending time with a girl named Meryl, one of his options for a future wife. The remaining actresses were required to back off and let Meryl take her chance, though one of them whom Sylvia encountered sniped that Meryl hadn’t played fair to begin with. Whatever had happened, Sylvia hoped this meant that Truman was no longer interested in her. He’d probably forgotten about the brief moment they’d shared.

       After the homecoming game, a party was held to celebrate the Seahaven Seagulls’ big win. Sylvia hadn’t expected to be invited, but Bobby surprised her as they walked back from the football field, surrounded by jubilant students and parents alike. “You want to go to that dance tonight? Truman’s gonna be there and we need more bodies.”

         _When opportunity knocks…_ “Of course.”

       The party was swinging, and though Sylvia anxiously scanned the room for any sign of Truman upon arriving, she quickly managed to lose herself to the influence of dancing and loud music. Bobby was a good partner to have on the floor, skillfully keeping up with Sylvia’s every move. With his body pressed against hers and their toes tapping, Sylvia felt the world melt away.

        Then, as Bobby turned Sylvia around, she noticed him. Across the sea of people, Truman danced with the same cheerleader who’d bumped into him at the football game. _So that’s Meryl?_ Their eyes met, and Sylvia couldn’t keep herself from smiling. Then both partners turned them away, and the contact was broken.

       Sylvia hoped Truman’s apparent fascination was short-lived, but Truman followed her movement as they continued to dance. Every now and then he would glance at Meryl, plastering on a smile, but every time he thought she wasn’t looking his gaze turned inevitably back to Sylvia.

       Bewilderment rose inside Sylvia. _What makes ME so special?_ Why couldn’t Truman keep his eyes off her? This wasn’t part of the plan to determine his love life. He was with Meryl for god’s sake, wasn’t she enough for him?

       Still, Sylvia found it impossible to look away from Truman or even disguise how flattered she was. She knew what she was doing was wrong, but it wasn’t as if she could help it. Truman was obviously interested in her. Why should anyone try to interfere with that? Besides the fact that she was just an extra who wasn’t supposed to have any speaking lines…

       Bobby’s grip on Sylvia suddenly tightened, and Sylvia realized he must have noticed the object of her attention. She tried transferring her smile to Bobby’s face, but it quickly vanished when Bobby pushed her, herding her away from Truman. The glare that he wore spoke volumes.

       “What are you doing?” Sylvia hissed as Bobby forcibly led her to the door. He gave no answer, and she struggled, but to no avail. It was only when they’d left the building that Bobby released Sylvia from his grasp. She staggered backwards, a furious heat rising to her cheeks.

       “What’d you do that for?”

        “I saw the way you were looking at him,” Bobby accused. “Look, if you wanna have a crush on Truman, you can’t _do_ anything about it, got that? He’s supposed to be with Meryl.”

       “What?” Sylvia couldn’t believe her ears. “We- we weren’t doing anything. I looked at him, he looked at me, that’s all.”

       “Oh, sure,” Bobby snorted. “Like you didn’t want to do more than look. Seducing Truman isn’t part of the job description.”

       Sylvia had been trying to keep a cool head, but Bobby’s last comment rubbed her the wrong way. Before she could stop herself, her mouth went off like a firecracker. “So why is it part of Meryl’s?”

        “That’s different!” Bobby looked aghast. “ _You_ weren’t cast as Meryl. Truman isn’t supposed to date the extras.”

       “But it’s not up to me,” Sylvia insisted. “Truman shouldn’t have his choices restricted.”

       Bobby laughed harshly. “I should have known. I swear, the only girls who audition for the show are the ones who think he'll fall in love with them and that they'll run away together. You probably used to write his name in your diary and draw hearts around it, huh? Filled pages with _Sylvia Burbank, Sylvia Burbank…”_

Suddenly Bobby broke off, his anger disappearing. It occurred to Sylvia that as a character in frequent contact with Truman, Bobby might have a connection to the folks upstairs, the Lunar Room controllers. They’d never contacted Sylvia on set before, only because she’d never done anything to warrant their attention. Whatever message Bobby might have received, it must have been strict, because his demeanor subdued at once.

       “Anyway, we can’t go back to the party,” he mumbled. “May I walk you home?”

       _Home? Yeah, right._ Sylvia shook her head, her body stiffening. “I can find my way on my own.”

       That night, as Sylvia lay curled up in a house without furniture, she replayed her conversation with Bobby and debated her options. Her safest bet right now would be to leave the show, before Truman attempted to make a move. If he never saw her again, he’d forget she ever existed and be free to spend his life with Meryl. But if Sylvia left early, there was a chance she might not be paid in full, and she had to admit she still needed the money. All she could do was trust that the show’s controllers would steer her in the right direction and not put her in close proximity with Truman again.

        The more Sylvia thought about her dilemma, though, the more uncomfortable she grew. Truman shouldn’t be forced into a relationship with someone just because that someone was being paid to act interested. _And it’s not that I have feelings for Truman,_ Sylvia told herself. If, for example, Truman had fallen for Bobby, it would still be wrong to keep them apart.

       Again Sylvia was stricken with how artificial the show was, despite its claims of being true to life. How had the viewing audience not seen through it by now? How was the world not disillusioned? She lay in bed and mulled over such thoughts until sleep came.

*

       The months dragged on, and Sylvia continued to work. In many ways, the job was the same as it had always been- walking from place to place, making repetitive conversation with extras in the background. She and Bobby weren’t quite on speaking terms anymore- at least, he rarely engaged her in conversation. It didn’t matter much to Sylvia. If she kept her head down, an incident like the one at the homecoming dance would never happen again.

       For a while, it seemed the folks upstairs listened to her unvoiced wishes. Throughout the whole of November and most of December, Sylvia never once saw Truman, even though he was ostensibly the reason she had to be on camera.

       Then came finals week. _The Truman Show_ had never provided Sylvia with as odd an experience as trying to cram facts into her brain for a test she wouldn’t have to take. Most of the student body- that is, most of the extras- were assigned to pull all-nighters at the library, keeping Truman company though they were separate.

       Though she knew the test wasn’t real, spending so much time in the library caused Sylvia to revert back to the mindset of a college freshman, where grades were all that mattered. She was knee-deep in a textbook when she picked up voices on the other side of the desk’s partition. Very familiar voices. Her blood ran cold. _It’s Truman…_

Sylvia’s first instinct was to get up and walk away, but she knew that would only draw attention to herself. She could do nothing but sit helplessly as Truman’s company- Marlon and Meryl- retreated, leaving him to his work. Her pulse was racing, but she ignored it, forcing herself to return to reading. If she was quiet, and made sure to leave the library after Truman, he wouldn’t even know she was there…

        Her hopes were dashed when a pair of eyes peeked down at her from over the partition. Truman had spotted her. Now that they were alone together, nothing could stop Truman from making his move. Sylvia held her breath and made a great effort to concentrate on her work. A fervent prayer rang through her head: _Please don’t talk to me, please don’t talk to me, please don’t…_

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Truman rise. It was foolish to pretend she hadn’t noticed. Sylvia raised her head, and found herself for the first time staring at Truman Burbank, in person, with no one around to come between them.

       “Hi,” Truman breathed.

        Almost unconsciously, a smile spread across Sylvia’s face, even as her mind screamed at her not to react or say anything. _That’s really Truman Burbank, and he’s really interested in ME…_

       “Konichiwa?” Truman said, breaking into a self-conscious smile. His voice was soft and pleasing to the ear, like a cozy blanket in front of the fireplace- _No. Don’t think like that._

      “What?” Sylvia whispered, before she knew she’d said anything. The instant the word left her mouth, she froze. Any moment now someone was going to come in and insist that there was an emergency, that Sylvia had to leave the library right now…

        “Oh, you… take Japanese,” Truman said, indicating Sylvia’s textbook. She glanced down at it, fumbling to save the moment. Improvisation had never been her strong suit. “Oh, yes, yeah.” They both broke into nervous laughter, and again a feeble voice pleaded in Sylvia’s mind. _Go away…_ But now that Truman had started the conversation, she couldn’t back out. And she wasn’t sure if she wanted to.

       “Lauren, right?”

       _Lauren?_ Sylvia stared blankly, and Truman pointed to her folder, which was stamped with the name LAUREN GARLAND. “It’s on the…”

       “Lauren,” Sylvia jumped in, recovering quickly. “Right, right.” Dammit, why couldn’t she wipe that grin off her face? She supposed it was a difficult task when Truman was looking at her so happily. She’d heard that he was stressed about passing finals, so meeting Sylvia must be a welcome reprieve for him.

       “I’m Truman Burbank,” Truman said.

       “Yeah… I know.” Again, the words slipped out unthinkingly. God, she was really going to get it now. Why wasn’t anyone jumping in to control the situation… Well, if no one else intervened, Sylvia would have to take matters into her own hands.

       “You know, Truman, I’m not allowed to talk to you.” She hoped Truman could hear the desperation in her voice, the subtle urging- _please, just go. Go._ But Truman didn’t budge.

        “Really?” He searched Sylvia’s expression for confirmation, then made a face and looked away. “Yeah, well, I can understand that. I’m a pretty dangerous character.”

        _It’s not your fault,_ Sylvia longed to say. Though she’d never felt any particular affection for Truman before, her heart ached to see him manipulated by circumstances outside his control. It wasn’t fair that he wasn’t allowed to even talk with the girl who’d caught his eye.

        “I’m sorry,” Sylvia whispered. “It’s not up to me.”

       Truman shook his head, masking his disappointment. “A girl’s got to be careful.” He tried to grin at her again, but now it was Sylvia who looked away, discreetly glancing toward the nearest hidden camera. Had her rejection worked? Was anyone going to step in and help her?

       Apparently they weren’t, because Truman knelt down beside her. “You have a boyfriend. Right?”

       Sylvia shook her head, hating the situation more with every denial. “No, it’s not that.”

       Truman’s eyes widened, an idea occurring to him. “Is it- was it Meryl, that girl that was with me? We’re not- we don’t- we’re not fr-” He backtracked. “We’re just- we’re friends.”

       _Just friends._ The folks upstairs certainly wouldn’t like to hear that. This was a nightmare for them- _why weren’t they interfering??_ And why didn’t Sylvia seem to care?

       “It’s nothing like that,” she said.

       “It’s how I look,” Truman instantly ventured. “Not your type?”

       At that, Sylvia had to smile, letting amusement breach her façade. She hadn’t give it much thought before, but up close, she could see how handsome Truman was, in a down-to-earth sort of way. “No.”

       Truman fell silent, having apparently exhausted his options. Then he announced, “I like your pin. I was wondering that myself.”

       _My pin?_ Automatically Sylvia glanced down at the pin on her sweater. HOW’S IT GOING TO END? She could have laughed. Now _that_ was on oversight if she’d ever seen one. Who had let her wear that onto the set? (Why had she worn it to begin with?)

       While she was mentally occupied, Truman became more serious.

      “Would you wanna… maybe… possibly, sometime… go out for some pizza or something? Like Friday?”

       Another glance to the camera- maybe the controllers were amusing themselves, testing how well their extras could work in an unexpected situation? Then back to Truman- but as soon as she looked, Sylvia wished she hadn’t. He seemed so earnest, so innocent, so unsuspecting, that Sylvia’s resolve began to crumble.

       “Saturday?” Truman pressed, and Sylvia made an effort to shake her head and look away. “I can’t…”

      “Sunday, Monday, Tuesday…”

       _No, no…_ At a loss, Sylvia grabbed her notebook and wrote her response. She didn’t realize until she’d showed it to Truman that she’d written _NOW_ instead of _NO._

Surprise fell across Truman’s face. “We have finals tomorrow…”

       “Yeah, I know, but…” God. Breaking Truman’s heart was too much to ask. He deserved to be fulfilled, even in something as simple as going to get pizza with the girl he liked. In that moment, Sylvia made a split decision. If the folks upstairs wanted a show, she’d give them a show.

       Sylvia leaned forward, shielding her face with her arm. “If we don’t go now, it won’t happen. Do you understand?”

       Truman nodded minutely, brown eyes trained as her, as warm as a cup of hot chocolate. _Oh, for god’s sake. Maybe I am catching feelings. So what?_

       “So what do you want to do?” Sylvia whispered.

        Truman stared at her for a long time, as if he didn’t understand why she was asking.

       “I want to go with you.”

        _Okay. Okay, okay._ No turning back. They were really doing this. Sylvia reached under her chair for her bag and Truman straightened up.

       “We have to sneak out,” she said under her breath. “Just follow me.” Somehow, she didn’t think Truman would have trouble obeying.

       They made their escape right as the library closed for the evening. Sylvia knew it would be impossible to evade the cameras for long, but she forced herself not to think about them. Besides, no one had stopped her when she’d wanted them to. With Truman, she ran out the back exit, down the halls of Seahaven College, and towards the nearest door. It was only then that Sylvia realized she had no idea where they were going. Extras weren’t provided with cars- at least, she hadn’t been. Her assigned house was in walking distance, but she couldn’t let Truman inside without any furniture. And if they went to get pizza, surely someone would step in and sweep her away from Truman.

       As soon as they’d crossed the parking lot, however, it hit Sylvia. Rising before them was a thick swathe of trees. _The forest!_ Truman rarely had reason to go there, thus it was equipped with fewer cameras. And if Sylvia’s memory of the set proved correct, the forest wasn’t far from the beach. No one would be out at this time of night. They’d have a little privacy- as much as one could get on the largest TV set known to man, anyway.

        Sylvia motioned to the trees, and Truman followed her, catching up. “Lauren!” he gasped. “Where are we going?”

       _Away_. Sylvia’s heart pounded.  _Away, away, far away…_ Entering the woods, she nearly stumbled over a tree’s root, and Truman took her hand. His grip was strong and relentless, never once letting up during their entire journey.

       Eventually they broke through the trees and found themselves running past the rows of houses that surrounded the beach. Sylvia was out of breath, but she couldn’t help giggling in amazement. It was hard to believe this was really happening. Somehow she, an extra, had managed to wrest away the star of _The Truman Show,_ significantly altering its plotline. _And why not??_ Truman had chosen to be with Sylvia, and offering him this precious evening was all she could do.

       At the bottom of a sandy slope lay the ocean. Even in the dark, and even knowing that it wasn’t real, it took Sylvia’s breath away. A flicker of hesitation crossed her mind- Truman didn’t like water, his father had drowned in the ocean, would he be okay here? Then Truman raised his hands in the air and exclaimed, “Please keep your hands inside the car!” He dove downwards, pulling Sylvia along, and her amazed laughter turned to joy. She remembered Truman saying the same thing at the beach when he was a kid; in fact she was almost positive that he’d picked it up from his father. He’d be fine, then.

       Together they tore madly towards the ocean, and for a moment Sylvia forgot the cameras that were no doubt shadowing their every move. There was only Truman, and herself, and no one else. Emboldened, she threw off her sweater, right before they skidded to a stop at the water’s edge.

      Truman turned toward Sylvia, still smiling as if he were the luckiest guy on Earth. _But he isn’t, not really…_ Instantly Sylvia’s joy vanished. Surely the folks upstairs wouldn’t allow her to keep this up for much longer. Just about an hour ago, or maybe a half-hour, she’d fervently wished that they would, but now she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Truman, not after basically making his night.

        “This is my favorite pizza place!” Truman declared, and Sylvia was forced to laugh. “Tony! One large, extra plankton!”

        _He has no idea what’s about to happen._ The thought swamped Sylvia in sadness. _He has no idea that this isn’t real… that we’re moving him around like chess pieces… He thinks he has free will, but he doesn’t._

The sobering conclusion echoed through her mind. _He doesn’t. He doesn’t have free will…_ This was no way to live. She needed to warn him.

“We have so little time,” Sylvia gasped. “They’re going to be here any minute.”

       “Who are?” _Oh, god, he trusts me, he doesn’t understand that he shouldn’t…_

No, it was the folks upstairs that Truman shouldn’t trust. The ones who ran his life so neatly, and yet in some act of serendipity had allowed this night to happen.

       “They don’t want me talking to you,” Sylvia insisted. _Truman, believe me, something bad is going to happen if y-_

“Then don’t talk,” Truman said. His eyes shone brightly in the moonlight as he leaned in to kiss Sylvia.

        The moment Truman touched Sylvia, she remembered that she was on live TV. Millions of viewers were probably glued to their seats. This was the image that would be splashed across all the magazines this month. Sylvia could picture the headlines: TRUMAN SNUBS PROSPECTIVE LOVE INTEREST, RUNS OFF WITH MYSTERY GIRL! It was all she’d never wanted, her face known worldwide.

       Sylvia’s next thought was that she didn’t care. She kissed back. As far as she knew, this was Truman’s first kiss, but he wasn’t bad for a beginner. His hands were gentle as he played with her hair, and his lips were soft.

       The ocean waves were too loud for Sylvia to notice the sound of a car’s engine, or tires speeding across the sand. But when the headlights fell upon her, she broke away from Truman. It was impossible to see past the headlights to the driver within, but in Sylvia’s heart she knew. Someone had finally intervened, and they weren’t happy.

       “They’re here, Truman,” Sylvia said uselessly. Nothing to do but wait for the inevitable.

       “What do they want?” Truman said, his arm around her, grinning broadly at the newcomers. And at once, it was more than Sylvia could stand. She’d agreed to sit passively in the background of the show, to live on set under the conditions of the folks upstairs. But she couldn’t leave Truman like this. She wouldn’t lie to his face, not after he’d unknowingly spent a lifetime on the receiving end of such treatment.

       Sylvia grabbed Truman, meeting his eyes. “Truman, listen to me. Everybody knows about you. Everybody knows everything you do. They’re pretending, Truman! Do you understand? Everybody’s pretending!”

       Confusion pinched Truman’s face. “Lauren, I don’t-”

       “No, no, no, my name’s not Lauren! It’s Sylvia.” How could she have broken one of her cardinal rules, to stay true to who she was? It didn’t count when she was acting, but this was no acting job. Not to Truman. “My name’s Sylvia.” The car had stopped- _no. Don’t pay attention. You’ve got to make him understand._

“Sylvia?” Truman murmured, in disbelief.

       “Yeah.” _Please, please, Truman, you’ve got to understand…_

       The car door opened. “Lauren, sweetheart, not again.”

       Though she didn’t want to, Sylvia had to look, Truman following her gaze. Before her stood a solitary man who’d probably been cast as an extra. Sylvia hadn’t seen him before, but she doubted the show would put any crew member in front of the camera.

      “Hey, wait a minute, who are you?” Truman demanded. He was still holding onto Sylvia, as if to protect her. Sylvia would have found it sweet if she hadn’t been so agitated.

       “I’m her father,” the man said, approaching with a steadfast step. Sylvia backed away. “I’ve never even seen him before!”

      “What? We weren’t doing anything,” Truman protested, still more confused than worried.

       “Come on, sweetie.” The man reached out to Sylvia. “Please, honey…”

      “He’s lying!” Sylvia knew she had no hope of escaping the man, and by extension the show’s controllers, but if she really tried, she might be able to make the facts stick in Truman’s head. “Truman, please! Don’t listen to him!” The man had his arm around her waist now, slowly but firmly leading her away. She couldn’t let this happen-!

       “Everything I’ve told you is the truth!” Sylvia bent down, for a second escaping the man’s clutches, and scooped up a handful of sand, which she dumped into Truman’s hands. “This, it’s all fake. It’s all for you!”

       Truman’s innocent puppy-dog eyes were all Sylvia could see. “I don’t understand… what?”

      “And the sky, and the sea, everything!” Sylvia knew she had to sound like a raving lunatic, but it was her only opportunity to warn Truman. After tonight, there was no way in hell they’d ever let her see him again, except from the other side of a screen. “It’s a set. It’s a show!” Finally she’d managed to spit out the heart of the matter, but all Truman said was, “I don’t get it.”

       “Come on, honey.” In a decidedly non-fatherly way, the man bundled Sylvia into the car. “Please. You’ll be all right.”

       “Everybody’s watching you!” _Goddammit,_ that man was going to smooth things over with a lie the instant Sylvia was locked up in the car. “Please don’t listen to him! He’s gonna lie to you. They’re watching us, right now!”

       “What’s going on?” Truman blurted, and that was the last Sylvia heard before the door locked shut. She pounded the window with her palm, honked the car horn… Anything to distract him! Anything to obscure what the man was saying! “No, don’t listen to him, Truman! _Truman!”_ The man was talking to him now, tying to convince him of something… and Sylvia was dismayed to see that Truman was buying it, judging from the crestfallen expression on his face.

       “What’s he saying? Truman, he’s lying!”

        Now the man was headed back to the car. When he opened the door, Sylvia made a last-ditch effort to escape, but the man grabbed her easily and held her in place. At the end of her rope, Sylvia stared into Truman’s eyes and breathed a final message. “Get out of here! Come and find me.” In the days- months- years that followed, she would wonder why she’d said that. Had she given Truman false hope? Or would he take her up on her word and try to leave Seahaven for good?

       “I’ll see you in school!” Truman offered, so clueless that it broke Sylvia’s heart. The car started, and she slumped back against the seat.

       “Fiji,” the man grumbled as he prepared to drive. “We’re moving to Fiji.”

       “There is no school!” Sylvia shouted, but with that, the car sped away. Sylvia was left staring back at Truman, who looked as if he’d just had his most prized possession ripped away from him, before the man turned the car around and they left the beach.

       The man hardly waited for the car to hit concrete before chewing Sylvia out. “I can’t tell you how much trouble you’re in. Good luck ever working in this town again, kid.”

      Sylvia folded her arms and stared out the window, slouching in her seat. Her driver cursed. “Just had to have your fifteen minutes of fame, huh? Good god, the publicity this thing’s gonna get.”

       “I don’t care,” Sylvia snapped, sullen. What did it matter, when Truman was probably still standing on the beach wondering what had happened to “Lauren?” All because Sylvia had landed the wrong part on the show.

       “Yeah? You _should_ care.” The car veered around a corner, and Sylvia collapsed against the door. “Was kissing Truman worth losing your job?”

       “It’s just a job.” The promise of money seemed hollow and pointless now. “I’ll get another one.”

       The man snorted. “There’s something you don’t understand, kid. A stunt like the one you pulled tonight’s enough to get you blacklisted. You've just shot your career in the foot.” He shook his head. “’Course, I shouldn’t expect the Free Truman folks to be smart enough care…”

       _Wait._ “What?” _Free Truman… how’s it going to end…_ The pin! Madly, Sylvia grabbed at her blouse and searched for it, even though she knew it wasn’t there. Either it had fallen off on their dash to the beach, or Truman had it. Sylvia hoped it was the latter, seeing as he’d admired it. _Something to remember me by._ Proof that “Lauren Garland” had existed, if only for a short time.

       Prior to entering the world of Seahaven, Sylvia had never imagined joining a movement to free Truman Burbank. What a fool she’d been. The more she thought about the show, the more her blood boiled. Such an elaborate ruse, all to keep Truman from living a normal life. He wasn’t free to make important decisions, such as which woman he wanted to go out with. He wasn’t free to go anywhere outside of town, even if he wanted to. He didn’t even have the right to privacy, with all the cameras invading his home and broadcasting his every move. And worst of all, he had no idea at all that the people around him were nothing more than actors. _How many of them actually care for Truman?_

How were so many of the show’s viewers content to sit and watch this man be exploited? How had _Sylvia_ ever been okay with it?

       The man pulled her back to reality with a snide side-eye. “Don’t try to act stupid. The Free Truman movement- you’re a member, right?”

       Sylvia took a deep breath and crossed her legs. Her desperation had vanished, a deep calm stealing over her. _Just you wait. Just you wait._ They were about to cross over the bridge now, the one that led to the real world.She couldn’t wait to get out there and share her story.

       “Yes,” she said, squaring her shoulders and straightening her back. “I am.”


End file.
